


merry christmas, finch

by gracetrackhiggins



Series: Woodvale, NY [3]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Christmas Party, Finch is a foster kid, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spot is his big brother, and immediately follows the events of amscraypunk's fic, brief mentions of child abuse/neglect i guess??, so read that first, this all fits in the tis the damn season au, this is literally just rly soft and tender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:47:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28440393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracetrackhiggins/pseuds/gracetrackhiggins
Summary: Finch hates change. But sometimes, especially at Christmas, change doesn't have to be so bad.
Relationships: Finch/JoJo (Newsies), Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Series: Woodvale, NY [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077458
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	merry christmas, finch

**Author's Note:**

> if you haven't read tis the damn season by amscraypunk read that first! this fits right after the events of that fic. thank you to taylor swift, @amscraypunk and @firehearte for creating such a beautiful world with me.

Spot lays on the truck horn again, frowning as he glances at his watch. Finch is taking his sweet time walking out the front door of his group home with his backpack slung over his shoulder, trudging his feet through the fresh snow that’s blanketed the front yard. Spot assumes that the snow will be mostly slush by the afternoon, as the sun is only just starting to peek over the horizon and turn the sky a light purple from dark blue. 

Spot shakes his head as Finch finally approaches the truck, flinging open the door and sliding into the passenger side, sinking back against the seat tiredly.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Spot deadpans, shifting the car to reverse before Finch even had his seat belt on. “You’re very late.” 

“Oh no, what a nightmare.” 

Spot gives Finch a sideways glare. “You get up by six every day for school,” Spot reminds him. “Winter break hasn’t changed your routine _that_ much.” 

Finch rolls his eyes, pouting back in the seat, unwrapping his scarf as the heat in the car warms his cheeks. 

“Whatever.” 

“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” Spot teases, nudging Finch with his elbow, frowning as Finch pouts and shifts away from him, shrugging wordlessly. Spot turns on the radio, Christmas music filtering through the truck, making Finch groan.

“Don’t we get enough Christmas music at the shop?” he asks, and Spot nearly laughs. 

“Okay, Mr. Grinch. What’s going on?” 

Finch shrugs again, leaning against the window and circling his finger as his breath fogs up the glass. 

“Nothin’,” Finch mutters, slouching against the door. “Just tired.” 

“Uh-huh,” Spot raises a brow, looking over at Finch as they come to a stoplight. “Well, when you wanna tell me what’s going on, I’m here.” 

Finch scoffs, rolling his eyes again in what Spot can only describe as peak teenage annoyance.

“Sure,” Finch says flatly, swirling his finger on the glass again. “Unless your fancy actor boyfriend shows up and changes his mind and you decide to move to California.” 

Spot sighs in understanding as he turns the corner into the parking lot of the coffee shop, just as the purple sky turns pink with daylight. 

“Okay,” Spot says, putting the truck into park and turning to look at Finch next to him. “What’s that about? Race isn’t going back to LA, you know that.” 

“Yet,” Finch mutters, crossing his arms defensively, meeting Spot’s eyes with annoyance. “Mush told me what you said, how you asked to go with him, how you were so ready to leave and move to LA if he asked you to.” 

To his credit, Spot looks apologetic as he sets a gentle hand on Finch’s arm. 

“Finch-” 

“No, no,” Finch shakes his head. “I get it. You’ve like _barely_ mentioned this guy, but whatever, I bet LA is real fun.” 

“Listen-” 

“I mean, I’ve known you what, _three years_ and you haven’t even brought up your famous ex boyfriend more than a few times? I know more about him from Jojo and Medda than you, but I’m glad you’re happy I guess, run away with your old flame, or whatever.” 

“ _Finch,_ ” Spot says louder, grabbing Finch’s hand in his. “Please listen.” 

Finch’s eyes dart away and Spot can see the hurt and emotion hiding behind his sharp gaze. 

“I’ve… I’ve had feelings for Race a lot longer than I was ready to admit, to you, to _anyone_ ,” Spot says slowly, not entirely sure where he’s going. This is all really new, whether the feelings were old or not, and he’s spent the better part of the last several days focusing on soaking up every second with Race, talking through their feelings, figuring out what they both wanted. 

“I...seeing him again, it’s been a real long time, and-” Spot sighs, rubbing a gloved hand over his face before looking back at Finch seriously. “I’ve been thinking about him for five years, Finch. I wasn’t gonna let him get on another plane and let another five years go by. I was never, _never_ going to drop everything and move away, not from here, not from you. I swear.” 

Finch slowly loosens up, looking to Spot cautiously. 

“Then why’d you tell him you would?” 

Spot shakes his head. “I really don’t know,” he admits. “I hadn’t slept, it was so early, I was scared of losin’ him, so I just got impulsive and...laid it all out. I never asked him to stay, and I never asked to go, so this time, I figured I’d at least give him a chance, to know how much he meant to me, and how much I didn’t want him to go.” 

Finch still looks hurt, and Spot moves his hand up to Finch’s shoulder.

“You need to know I wouldn’t do anything like that without you,” he says seriously, gently tapping Finch’s cheek to meet his gaze. “I mean it. I’m not just up and leavin’. And if something changed and I did go somewhere, I wouldn’t do it without you.” 

Finch snorts. “Yeah, good luck convincing the state that.” 

Spot smirks, clapping Finch’s shoulder lightly. “You know what I mean.” 

Finch nods, sighing. “Okay. I just…” He shrugs, wrapping his scarf back around his neck as Spot turns off the truck. “I guess I got a little scared. I don’t want you to move away, even if I _am_ happy that you have a boyfriend and stuff. I...ugh, you’re making me sappy.” 

“I know,” Spot says with a laugh, getting out of the truck, walking around to Finch’s side. He wraps an arm around Finch’s shoulders and gives him a grin. “And you don’t have to be scared. I’m not going anywhere. You can’t get rid of me that easy, kiddo.” 

Finch’s face twists into a smirk, shrugging Spot’s arm off him, pushing him playfully. Spot _nearly_ slips in the snow and he turns to give Finch a narrowed glare, tugging him toward the front door to the coffee shop as Finch stifles his laughter. 

“Good, I _guess_ ,” Finch laments, though Spot is glad to see the smile on his face. “You’re my ride.” 

Spot turns the key into the front door and chuckles. 

“Lucky me.” 

*

Finch has never really cared about Christmas. At least, not since losing his mom almost six years ago now. He’s never really gotten why it was such a big deal, all the decorations and baking and finding the _perfect gift_. In his experience, Christmas was just another day in December, cold, probably snowy, and nothing to look forward to. Then again, it wasn’t like there was much to look forward to when you moved from group home to group home every few years. Sometimes charities would give the kids gifts, but all that meant was an awkward exchange with some kind ladies from a children’s group who watch with glee as Finch and other kids halfheartedly open inappropriately too-young aged gifts. What is he supposed to do with a plastic truck at 13 years old? 

Christmas was just another day, which was something Finch stood by until he moved to his current home. Going to school at Woodvale High turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to him, because it meant meeting the friends who had quickly become like family to him. It’s how he met his boyfriend, Jojo, and by proxy, his big brother, Spot. It wasn’t until meeting and falling for Jojo that Finch started to realize why Christmas was so special.

His first Christmas at Medda’s house changed his perspective greatly. He’d never felt the love and warmth that Christmas brought until experiencing it at Medda’s, watching as Jojo got more joy from giving gifts than receiving them, unable to stop smiling as the little twins run around in glee showing off their new toys, eyes widening with surprise as Miss Medda gives him gifts too, including him as if he were one of her kids. 

After that year, every year has been spent with Medda and Jojo and Mush and Smalls and the twins. The next year included Spot too, and Finch finally starts to think that he understands what Christmas being about family is all about. He loves it, for the first time in a really long time, he looks forward to the holiday season, the warmth of Medda’s house early Christmas morning, the coffee and cookies and candles and lights and Christmas carols and sitting in his pajamas with Jojo’s arms wrapped around him, watching as he opens presents, listening to the kids laugh and Spot and Medda reminisce about when Spot was a kid, grinning bright as his friends, his _family_ , open their perfect gifts that he’d picked out. 

This year, Finch was a little nervous. He’s gotten used to the way things were, and as happy as he is for Spot, seeing Spot in love, proudly holding his boyfriend’s hand as they walk down the street, greeting him with a kiss when he comes into the coffee shop in the mornings, taking him on dates at restaurants in town, Finch isn’t sure he’s ready for things to change. Some part of him is jealous of Race, even after he’d talked with Spot about it and Spot had assured him that he’s not going anywhere, he’s not sure he believes him.

Finch forces himself to be okay with it. Spot is happy, and that’s what matters. If things change, so what? Finch has dealt with change before, and in another year and a half he’ll be out of here. Aged out of the system. Off to college with Jojo, with his shitty childhood and abandonment issues a distant memory. 

Christmas morning is a little different, but Medda and Jack and Spot are all so happy that Race is there. Jojo and Mush are clearly thrilled, already attached to Race at the hip. Race is tangled in Spot’s arms, nursing the coffee Spot had made him earlier, content receiving gentle cheek kisses and soft touches from Spot’s work-worn hands. Spot and Race share the couch with Jack and Katherine, Katherine’s presence fitting in nicely to their comfortable family, with her bright smile and sharp wit and tolerance of Jack’s dumb jokes. Finch likes her immediately, he had since he met her at the engagement party, and he doesn’t want to admit how much he likes Race too. 

Finch opts for jealousy instead, focusing on _his_ boyfriend, _his_ friends, _his_ found family; proudly giving his gifts to Jojo and Mush and Smalls and Miss Medda, pointedly ignoring Spot the whole morning, despite Spot being his ride home later. Maybe he’d just walk it. It was only a few feet of snow.

“You okay, Finchie?” Spot asks as the morning festivities wrap up, using the scarce nickname that Finch only _really_ allows Jojo. “You’re quiet.” 

Finch shrugs, gathering his gifts into his arms to pack his bag upstairs. “I’m fine,” Finch assures him, turning on his heel and following Jojo up the stairs. 

Spot glances to Race curled into his side as they watch Finch go up the stairs, and Finch can feel their eyes on him.

Jojo giggles as he wraps his arms around Finch’s waist, resting his head on Finch’s shoulder lovingly as they hug in the middle of the bedroom. 

“You’ll be back for dinner, right?” Jojo asks, and Finch nods. 

“Of course. I just have to do some chores and get more clothes from my house, and then I’ll be back.” 

Jojo bounces on the balls of his feet. “Good,” he giggles, pecking a kiss to Finch’s lips. “You can help Mama cook dinner, she loves when you help her in the kitchen.” 

Finch smiles. Medda’s been teaching him how to cook, sharing her family recipes with him, helping him hone his skills as he becomes a natural in the kitchen. 

“I’d like that,” Finch smiles. “Now let’s see if I can drag Spot away from his _boyfriend_ long enough to drive me back to the house.” 

Jojo shakes his head. “Be nice, Finchie,” he teases. “They’re in love! Isn’t it so romantic?” 

Finch makes a face. “Pining after each other for five years without telling each other how they feel and then dramatically reuniting sounds more like poor communication than it does romance, Jojo.” 

Jojo rolls his eyes and kisses Finch’s cheek. “You’re being a Grinch-ie Finchie,” he says with a smirk. “Spot’s happy, Race is happy, I get a big brother, you get _your_ big brother, everyone wins!!!”

Finch kisses Jojo back, finding his lips in a soft kiss. 

“Alright, alright,” Finch laments, slipping his backpack over his shoulder. “I know you’re right. I’m just gonna be cranky about it.” 

Jojo puts his hands on Finch’s shoulders, his big brown eyes meeting Finch’s sharp hazel. 

“No being cranky on Christmas!” Jojo demands, shaking Finch by the shoulders lightly. “Only smiles!” 

Finch gives Jojo a cheesy grin, making him giggle. 

“Better?” Finch asks through his bright silly smile, which Jojo mirrors playfully. 

“Perfect!”

Finch giggles too as Jojo stands on his tiptoes to press his nose to Finch’s. Finch can’t help himself and catches Jojo’s lips in another kiss. 

“Okay,” Jojo whines as Finch’s hand wanders under Jojo’s sweater. “You need to leave so you can come back and we won’t be interrupted.”

Finch snorts. “Baby, in your house we’ll _always_ be interrupted.”

Jojo groans, tugging Finch’s hands as they start out the door together. “I _suppose_.”

Finch squeezes Jojo’s hands right as they go back down the stairs, his silly smile fading as he exits the staircase into the family room, rolling his eyes to see Race and Spot entangled in one another’s arms, engaging in what Finch can only call disgusting displays of affection as everyone else is doing other things around the house, leaving them alone. 

“Ugh,” Finch mutters as he stomps down the last stairs, in unison with Jojo’s “Aww!”.

“Spot, you wanna get your tongue out of Race’s throat so you can drive me home, or should I just walk it?”

Spot and Race separate as Jojo lightly hits Finch’s shoulder. 

“Very funny,” Spot says, standing from the couch, squeezing Race’s hand once before he crosses the small family room to Finch, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m all yours kid, let’s go.”

Jojo gives Finch and then Spot tight hugs before he crashes into the couch next to Race, snuggling into him. 

“See you later, Finchie!” Jojo pipes up. “Merry Christmas!”

Spot turns to give Jojo (and Race) a wink before he leads Finch to the front hall to grab his coat and head out the door.

*

Finch gives Spot a sideways look as he turns the truck down a familiar street, clearly _not_ in the direction of Finch’s group home. 

“Why are we going to your place?” Finch asks as Spot drives down the block to his driveway. The house is modest, the driveway is neatly shoveled, there are a few Christmas lights that Finch and Jojo helped him put up back in November ( _Christmas starts November 1st, Finch!!_ Jojo had insisted), and when it’s not winter, Spot’s front yard usually has a bed of flowers out front. 

“I left one of your presents inside,” Spot says simply as he parks the truck. “C’mon.”

Finch rolls his eyes but follows Spot from the truck into the house, wiping his boots and hanging his coat in the front hall like always. 

“What kind of present?” Finch ventures, following Spot into the kitchen. “You already gave me boots and hoodies and stuff, you don’t need to give me anything else.”

Spot almost laughs. “Finch Cortes turning down _my_ money? You’re joking, right?”

Finch shrugs, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I dunno, maybe Jojo’s rubbing off on me.”

Spot smirks. “I told you he was a good influence. But I think you’ll like this, so just sit tight for a second.”

Finch shrugs again, sitting at the (homemade) kitchen table in Spot’s modest kitchen, stewing in his jealousy. He doesn’t _want_ to be a dick, especially on Christmas, and he _does_ know Jojo is right, that it’s the biggest win/win of a situation, and he has nothing to be mad about. But being angry about change is easier than embracing it, so pissed off it is. 

“Can we talk?” Spot asks as he returns, setting his worn messenger bag down on the kitchen table. 

“I guess,” Finch says, crossing his arms as he leans back in the seat. 

Spot sits next to Finch, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“I know you’re not happy with me right now,” Spot says carefully, watching Finch’s eyes flick away from him. “And I don’t blame you. I scared you, and I made you doubt me, and it wasn’t fair.”

 _Damn right it wasn’t fair,_ Finch thinks to himself, arms slowly loosening despite himself. 

“I want to clear the air and start fresh,” Spot continues, rubbing Finch’s shoulder. “I know we talked through it before, but I really want you to understand that I was never, ever going to leave you. I know how hard change is for you, it’s hard for me too, and I’d never do something like that to you.”

Finch’s expression softens as he turns to look at Spot, whose eyes surprise him with the amount of emotion in them. Finch’s heart skips a beat with the surprise, seeing tough, no-nonsense, intense Spot Conlon getting emotional over _him_. 

“Yeah?” Finch asks, the anger and spite absent from his tone. 

“Yeah, Finch. Of course. I’m really so sorry I scared you. And Race is sorry too. We’ve talked about you a lot, he knows how much you mean to me, and that if he wants to be part of _my_ life, _you_ are part of the deal.”

Finch’s eyes water and he rolls them in annoyance with himself. 

“And he’s okay with that?” Finch asks skeptically, and Spot smiles. 

“Finchie, Race was a foster kid just like you. He grew up with Medda and Jack. He’s not as big of a Hollywood hotshot as he pretends to be. He wants to be with me, and he wants that to include you. I promise.”

Finch nods reluctantly, wiping at his nose with his sleeve. “Well, Jojo likes him a lot, so maybe you’re right about him not being a rich actor asshole.”

“Your words, not mine. But yeah, Jojo’s a pretty good judge of heart, isn’t he?”

Finch tries not to smile at Spot’s choice of words: _heart_ instead of character, because Jojo sees straight to people’s souls. He’s done it with every person he calls family, with Mush, with Smalls, with Finch, he’s seen right through whatever fucked up exterior they had to cling to for safety and made them see themselves the way _he_ saw them. He was doing the same with Race, after just barely two weeks of knowing him. Finch can tell how much Race has opened up, way different than the jetlagged guy in the fancy shoes he met at the coffee shop, much happier and gentler than Finch honestly expected. 

“Yeah,” Finch admits. “He is.”

“Yeah,” Spot repeats. He smiles, pulling his bag toward him. “Now, to prove just how much I mean what I say, your Christmas present.”

Finch drops his crossed arms as Spot takes a packet of papers from his bag, sliding it in front of Finch to read. 

“What is this?” Finch asks, brows furrowing as he reads the papers, eyes finally widening with realization. 

“I uh,” Spot squeezes his hand on Finch’s shoulder. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to become your guardian.” 

Finch’s eyes fill with tears despite his best efforts to play it off, and he wipes at his nose quickly. 

“You...you do? Why? I’m 17, I’ll age out soon, why would you-” 

“Finch,” Spot puts a hand on Finch’s cheek and he turns to look at him, biting his bottom lip hard as he fights emotion. “I don’t want my place in your life to disappear when you turn 18. I want to be part of your life, in a legal way, forever. I want to help you with college stuff, and getting your first apartment, co-signing for your first huge purchase, and all the other dumb grown up things that kids should have parents for. I never had that, and I have the chance to give that to you, and I want to take it.” 

Finch searches Spot’s expression and then looks back at the papers in his hands, all completed forms that Finch knows for a _fact_ must’ve taken over a year to get through the system. His heart pounds in his chest as emotion bubbles over, a tear escaping his eye and rolling down his cheek. 

“You want to adopt me?” Finch whispers, voice catching in his throat. 

“I do,” Spot says seriously. “If you want me to, that is. All you have to do is meet with your social worker, go with me before the judge, and then it’s a done deal.” 

Finch shakes his head in awe. “That easy?” 

Spot almost laughs, giving Finch a smile. “I did all the heavy lifting on this one.” 

“I...I could move out of the group home?” Finch’s voice is full of hope and an innocence Spot’s very rarely heard in him before. It’s times like these that Spot is reminded just how _young_ Finch is, and how often he’s seen the worst in people at his young age.

Spot’s warm smile grows. “I mean, that depends on your answer. Because if it’s yes, I have more presents for you.” 

Finch giggles, putting the papers down and wiping at his tears, letting himself cry into his hands like the kid he forgets he is sometimes. He nods, laughing again between tears. His mind spins to catch up, imagining how long Spot must’ve been working with a lawyer and his foster parents and his social worker and...maybe Medda helped him, gave him connections, and _that_ would explain the trips into the city Spot had to make a few times the last few months, and- he really meant it, didn’t he? He wasn’t going to leave, he wasn’t going anywhere without him, he really meant everything he said about him being too important to leave behind. Finch believes him now, staring at the paper evidence. 

Finch finally looks up at Spot and nods again, unable to stop smiling (or crying, but he’d tell Spot to never mention that to his friends later). 

“Yes,” Finch manages, sniffing back tears. “Yes. Thank you, Sean.” 

Spot’s grin is wide as he grabs Finch in a tight hug, squeezing him close. Finch hides his face in Spot’s shoulder, letting himself cry just a _little_ more before he sniffs back the tears and forces himself to calm down.

“I love you, Finchie,” Spot says as he finally lets Finch go, ruffling his hair playfully. “You deserve the world.” 

Finch laughs at himself for being so emotional, wiping at his eyes and letting Spot hug him again affectionately. 

“Does this mean I have to call you dad now?” Finch asks, and Spot snorts in amusement. 

“I’d prefer if you _didn’t_ ,” he teases, nudging Finch’s arm with his. 

“So clearly I have to, got it.” Finch says firmly, taking a breath to calm his emotions. “Anyway, I’m not gonna cry again so...you said there were more presents?” 

Spot laughs, standing from his chair and reaching for Finch’s hand. Finch takes it, emotion welling again as Spot squeezes his hand tight and follows him down the hall to Spot’s guest bedroom (which Finch happens to know is also the bedroom Spot grew up in). Spot pushes the door open to reveal what was a storage room, transformed into a sleek, modern bedroom, redecorated with all new furniture that Finch knows Spot must’ve made himself. 

Finch’s jaw drops. 

“This...is for me?” 

Spot can’t hide his excited grin. “It is.” 

Finch makes a show of dramatically pouting his lower lip, hiding his emotions with laughter. 

“ _Daaaad_!” 

Spot shakes his head. “Oh, here we go.” 

“Seriously,” Finch steps into the room and looks around, in awe of the brand new polished desk, bed, dresser and end tables that decorate the room, once painted light blue, now repainted a sleek grey. “This is…” Finch shakes his head as his eyes water and he gets emotional again, fiercely trying to not cry and embarrass himself any further, despite him knowing Spot doesn’t care at all. Finch’s voice grows small. “My own room.” 

“Yeah,” Spot puts his hands on Finch’s shoulders protectively. “All yours. With privacy. And your own bathroom down the hall.” 

Finch can’t help himself, turning and hugging Spot tight. 

“It’s perfect,” he mumbles through the emotion thick in his throat. “I love it, I love you, _thank you_ Sean, I-” 

Spot holds Finch close, looking around the bedroom proudly before resting his cheek against Finch’s head. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” Spot insists. “You deserve this. You deserve your own room, and a family, and I’m so _honored_ you’ve chosen me to be part of it.” 

Finch refuses to cry like he wants to, instead just smiling with joy. 

“I couldn’t ask for a better family than you,” Finch admits quietly. “I know I’m an asshole sometimes, but...I really do love you and appreciate everything you do for me. And this...is amazing.” 

Spot smiles, wrapping his arm around Finch’s shoulder as they both look around the room. “You’re not an asshole, you’re just a teenager.” Spot assures him, and Finch winces. 

“I’m both.” 

“That’s true, but at least you’re self aware.” 

Finch snorts in response, leaning his head against Spot’s shoulder. “Best Christmas ever.” 

“Yeah?” Spot asks, and Finch nods immediately. 

“Hands down.” 

Spot’s smile is still wide and Finch wonders if he’s ever seen Spot smile as much as he’s been smiling the last few weeks since Race came home. He thinks about all the things that Spot said about Race knowing that he was _part of the deal_ and feels foolish now for getting so jealous before. Spot’s dedication is all over this room, all over the adoption papers, all over the smile on his face.

“Merry Christmas, Finch.” Spot tells him softly, his voice quiet and happy. 

“Merry Christmas, Spot,” Finch replies, unable to help himself. “I mean, Daddy.” 

Spot sighs as Finch snickers at himself. “And so it begins.” 

*

**Author's Note:**

> as always find me on tumblr @gracetrack-higgins
> 
> i hope you enjoyed and happy holidays, merry christmas to those who celebrate, and happy new year!


End file.
